The Truths we Burn (The Hollow Boys Book 2)

by Monty Jay

  My head spins at the high ceilings and gothic architecture, overlaid with swirly patterns framing dark stained-glass windows that shatter what little light crawled inside.

  I hate being here.

  But I’m not nervous.

  I have a job to do. I have a plan, a role to act out.

  It’s not about the homework or getting an education; it’s about fucking over idiots who let me out of my psych ward prison. I’m driven by the image of my father’s death, watching all the life go out of his eyes while I stare him down into the grave.

  It’s the last thing I can do for Rose. The only good thing I can do for her, and it’s the least she deserves.

  After everything I’d put her through while she was alive, I can at least make sure her killer is brought to some form of justice. No matter how bloody.

  Her death, that mental hospital, it changed me.

  I used to look in the mirror and see a girl waiting to spread her wings. Waiting to live her truth.

  Now I see nothing.

  Just a shell of a person.

  I have no idea who I am. What I enjoy, what makes me happy. I’m just breathing, moving through the phases of life like a small ripple in a pond. Insignificant.

  My dreams had vanished so quickly that I had begun to wonder if they were even there in the first place.

  I am lost, and I’d become content with that feeling.

  “This is your first class for the day. If you need any help with scheduling or have an issue finding something, just stop by my office, okay?”

  My school counselor, Conner Godfrey, is nice. I’d spent most of our time together ignoring him, but he’s nice, nonetheless.

  “Thank you.” I give a small smile before he disappears down the hallways.

  I look at the plaques next to each door, reading the room number and professor’s name beneath them. Glancing down at my schedule, I take a breath and stop in front of lecture hall twenty-four.

  Latin One is my first class of the day. Thankfully, I don’t need to start in the first semester due to the college credits I’d acquired in high school. I could return to the spring semester of my freshman year along with all the other returning students.

  The collared white blouse seems to tighten around my throat, and I’m regretting the decision to wear this black skirt already. The air feels too close to my naked thighs, and I feel too cold, even with the red blazer covering my shoulders.

  I take a breath, a small one, just enough to prepare for the glances and stares I’ll receive.

  Sage Donahue is back, and if they thought I was bad before, they’re in for a rude awakening.

  Because now? I don’t give a fuck.

  I press the door open, my shoes filling the silence that has taken over the class. I can feel them all staring at me, most of them students I’d graduated with but some new faces in the crowd.

  Those are the ones who whisper and ask questions, wondering what it is about me that had seemingly frozen an entire class.

  Even the teacher, who is supposed to maintain professionalism, has paused from what she is doing to stare at me. I let them all openly gawk, letting them come to whatever conclusion they want, building stories in their head about where I’d been and what happened.

  I can guarantee nothing their pea brains formulate would be worse than the truth.

  “Miss Donahue.” Our professor clears her throat. “Please take a seat, and refrain from being late next time as to not disturb our lesson.”

  This seems to bring everyone back to earth, reminding them of where we are and what it is they are doing.

  They return to their conversations, and their eyes fall to their desks. I take this moment to scan the room for a seat, searching the rows of filled chairs for a single empty one. Preferably one secluded from the rest.

  Instead, I’m met with eyes that are half-mast and blazing.

  Ones that keep me up at night.

  I knew I’d see him. I knew that my job was to put myself in his path, and I thought I would be ready for it.

  I thought I had prepared myself for how he would look, to see what the past several months had done to him. I’d run through so many situations in my head, but there is nothing that could really prepare me for Rook.

  There never had been.

  Time had been good to him.

  He was lean before, but now, now he’s much bigger. His chest is broader, stretching the material of his black long sleeve. Arms that are covered tightly with material seem thicker, and he’d added hand tattoos to his list of self-decoration.

  My chest spasms, looking at the way his hair flips out from beneath his backwards flat bill that only he can pull off. The light catches the small silver piercing through his eyebrow, creating a slit in the hair.

  He is high—I can tell by how slow his eyes move over me. Not with interest or lust, but instead with disgust. Hatred.

  Even the weed can’t soften how he feels about me.

  And that’s what makes this hurt.

  It’s not seeing his face or that he’d changed.

  It’s seeing him stare at me with so much animosity that I can physically feel it touching my skin. I’m reliving that breakup all over again, going through the heartbreak of shattering his trust once more.

  I know what he’s thinking, how he wished he’d never met me, never allowed himself to do what we did. The pain that courses through me is almost unbearable because I know that as much as he hates me, he hates himself more for trusting me. And I never wanted that for him.

  Subconsciously, I reach up to my collarbone, rubbing my scar that lies beneath my clothes. I’d done this so many times before for comfort, trying to see if I could conjure up good memories and feelings by touching the mark we now shared.

  He watches me do this for a second, and it feels like a harsh slap to the face when he flicks his eyes back up.

  They’re alarmingly vacant, void of all feelings towards me. I can’t even detect distaste or hatred inside of them anymore. He’s lost all emotion in regard to me, and that hurts the most. Knowing that he feels absolutely nothing towards me.

  The Rook I’d once known.

  The one who’d so desperately wanted to keep me.

  The boy I thought could love me…

  Is gone.

  It’s amazing how things change while you’re away.

  How the world just continues spinning and moving even after people die or, in my case, are sent into exile.

  Class this morning had been awkward for maybe ten minutes after I’d sat down, but Rook had quickly excused himself to the bathroom and never returned. Then I had proceeded to drown out the lecture, falling into a hole of plotting.

  Trying to grasp how in the hell I’m going to get them on my side. How I’m going to get them to believe me when I tell them I’m on their side and want to be a part of their revenge. They’re never going to let me help if they don’t trust me. But I have to try.

  My best bet, my only bet, is going to Silas.

  If I could somehow talk to him long enough, I could explain to him that all I want is to ruin my father. To squish him beneath my feet until he no longer exists. To help end his life, and then I’ll be out of their hair. I’ll never bother any of them again.

  He would understand more than any of the other boys how important this is to me.

  I’d become the talk of the campus, just as I suspected I would, but while they’re busy participating in the rumor mill, I’m listening for things.

  Listening to all the things I’d missed when people thought they were merely whispering. It’s amazing the shit people will say when you have headphones in, thinking you are listening to music when you’re just waiting for them to talk.

  I’d heard in one of my classes that Jason Ellis threw last year’s homecoming party and got his black card taken because his house was fucked afterward. There had also been a gun that went off at the freshman-year orientation game, and hell had frozen over because it would seem one o
f the Hollow Boys was off the market.

  Years ago, that last bit of information would have made me laugh. How could anyone want to date guys that psychotic? That fucking full of chaos and bad reputation. It wouldn’t have made sense to me.

  But now, it doesn’t seem that hard to believe. If they’re anything like Rook, they all have secrets underneath their exterior. Ones that once you see pieces of, once you understood even in the slightest bit, it’s hard not to grow attached to them and to the darkness they carry.

  The sad fact was I didn’t even know all the things Rook kept inside. There were still traumas and secrets he’d hidden from me, and I still fell for him.

  It’s a scary thought, knowing that the only person in Ponderosa Springs who has dirt on me is Rook Van Doren, a notoriously vicious Hollow Boy. The information he holds would not only cripple me if anyone found out but break my heart all over again.

  I tug my long overcoat farther around my shoulders as I speed walk across the grounds. January in Oregon means snow, and today is no exception. The white-covered campus is eerie even with the return of students from winter break.

  The gargoyles that stare down at you, which some believe are actually cameras. The frozen water fountains in front of some of the halls. Snow covering the sharp tips of the towers, and harsh winds blowing across your skin from the sea breeze due to it being on the coast as you walk through open spaces.

  I made it to the Salvatore Dining Hall just before my nipples froze off, pressing my hands into the doors and feeling the warmth from the heat inside brushing my cheeks. I cup my hands in front of my mouth, blowing into them as I move past a few other students I don’t recognize.

  I would think I’d be used to the over-the-top buildings and what they held inside, but each space I walked into at Hollow Heights reminds me of why it’s so sought-after. The dining hall is huge, the ceilings incredibly tall with circular chandeliers with two tiers, each holding clear bulbs that almost look like candles. Rows and rows of horizontal tables six chairs long are squeezed inside the space.

  Taking a second to stare at the ceiling that is similarly painted to the Sistine Chapel in honor of the historic building, I make my way through the line to grab food for lunch. I desperately try to blend in with everyone else, something I would have never done before, but now it feels like I had to in order to survive.

  I tuck my head down and tap my right ear so that my AirPods will play music in order to block the sounds of laughter and friends rejoicing. The Righteous Brothers play smoothly inside my head, warming what little bit of soul I have left.

  Once I’ve gathered my food, I quickly find a table that is empty off in the corner away from prying eyes and make myself comfortable before I start to shove my food into different corners of my tray. I’d gotten so used to the dividers in the ward that the thought of my food touching makes me want to vomit.

  I’d been away too long, so long that the ward felt more like home than this place. I just hope this wouldn’t take very long so I can finally leave. I’m not sure where I would go, but I know I want out.

  Before, I’d had dreams of Hollywood or Los Angeles, but when I think about going there now, I just feel empty. It doesn’t feel right. Nothing feels right anymore.

  “Sage?”

  Fuck my life.

  “I’d heard you were back, but I didn’t actually buy it! I can’t believe you’re back! We missed you.”

  I lift my eyes to Mary’s, stabbing a grape with my fork simultaneously before pushing it into my mouth as I lean back in my chair. Lizzy stands next to her, waving awkwardly.

  Mary’s words don’t match the look on her face. She is full of triumph as if she’s won my spot on the Ponderosa Springs’ throne, and to some degree, she definitely has.

  “That’s sweet.” I chew the fruit. “Same here. All I thought about while I was locked inside of a psych ward was my two very best friends.” I smile sweetly, blinking way too many times than necessary.

  “I wanted to come to visit,” Liz starts, and Mary quickly bumps her with her hip as if I won’t notice. Lizzy lets out a frustrated breath before continuing. “We wanted to visit, but your dad said it was best if we let you get better first.”

  Lizzy, I believe would’ve been a good friend to me had I given her the chance, but as she followed me blindly, she is now under new management.

  I scoff a little. “I’m sure he did. I’d say it worked, huh? Don’t I look better?” I ask, not really wanting an answer. “Besides, I’m sure you two were busy with graduation.”

  “Listen, Sage,” Mary starts, flipping her perfectly curled hair over her shoulder, making me want to snatch that band off her head and beat her with it, “I wanted to talk to you about East. It was really hard after everything that happened, and we just kind of found solace in each other. We missed you. It was—”

  This was the part I’d been most excited for—not having to cover how I really feel about things.

  I interrupt her apology that I don’t need. “I don’t give a shit about you fucking my ex. I’m really happy you have my sloppy seconds, Mary. That way he will leave me the hell alone.”

  I couldn’t care less about Easton Sinclair. I don’t care who he’s fucking as long as it isn’t me.

  “I mean, that’s what you always wanted, wasn’t it? Why you were friends with me? So that you could have what I had?” I add.

  I knew Mary was hungry for the attention I so effortlessly acquired in high school. Waiting for the moment I crashed and burned so she could step up and take my place.

  And I don’t blame her.

  This place raises you to be a vulture. You do what you have to do to survive, and it’s easier to get by when you live life at the top of the food chain.

  “Don’t get your panties all tangled up because you’ve fallen from grace. Nobody wants to be around a girl who needs a straitjacket.”

  “Oh, what will I do without the approval of washed-up townies.” I exaggerate by placing the back of my hand to my forehead as if to check my temperature. “I’m afraid I just won’t make it!”

  I’m not sure what aggravates her more, my sarcasm or the fact I just don’t give a shit about what she says.

  “You know, I feel sorry for you.” She gives me a toothless smile. “Lost your mind, lost your mom, lost your sister. That’s why you feel you can act so nasty towards me, because what else do you have to lose? You have nothing left.”

  I grind my teeth so hard I can hear it. “You’re right. I don’t.”

  She looks proud of herself, knocking me down a notch and showing me who’s in charge here now.

  “My dirty laundry is all aired out and hanging on the front porch. So that means you have nothing to use against me,” I continue, licking my bottom lip as I tilt my head. “But yours, on the other hand, it’s still hidden, and I know of it. I know every single scandal and secret both of you have. So, if you ever speak about my sister ever again, I’ll do more than tell people. I will end you. Got it, girlie?” I finish charmingly.

  My threat hangs in the air between us, both of them running through the list of dirt I have hanging above their heads. They know I’m not bluffing either—there’s nothing stopping me from exposing them both.

  Her eyes widen slightly just enough to let me know that what I’ve said has struck her.

  They weren’t on my list of things to deal with—I have more important things to handle—but if they get in my way, if Mary starts running her mouth about shit she doesn’t understand, I will add them to the list.

  Mary opens her mouth, ready to dig her grave even deeper, just continuing to shove her foot down her throat, but she is quickly interrupted.

  “Everything okay over here?”

  I look at the person the new voice has come from, and I realize that I don’t recognize her or the girl who stands close beside her.

  Lizzy tries to pull Mary away by her arm. “Come on, let’s just go,” she mutters.

  But Mary isn’t finished; s
he laughs sarcastically. “This is actually perfect. You’re replacing us with the bug freak and the Hollow Boys’ new whore. You should be careful, Briar—the last girl who was close to them ended up dead. Isn’t that right, Sage?”

  I press my hands into the table, my chair screeching as I stand up. “Bitch, I’m not telling you again. Keep my sister out of your mouth.”

  Never in my life had I been in a physical fight.

  So I might get my ass handed to me.

  I have no clue how to even punch someone without breaking my own hand in the process. But I know how to pull hair, how to bite, and how to play dirty.

  “That’s enough, guys. People are staring. We’re leaving.” Lizzy pulls harder on Mary, forcing her away from me and this heated situation.

  They disappear to their side of the dining hall, and I’m left with this burning in my chest. This painful reminder that Rosie is gone, and everyone knows it. Everyone has accepted it except me.

  I fall into the seat, dropping my head down and running my hands through my hair with aggravation.

  What am I doing here?

  I don’t belong here anymore, and that is very clear. There’s no way Silas or any of the other boys would hear me out long enough, let alone trust me.

  My first day and this all feels pointless. It’s only showing me that the entire world had moved on while I’m stuck treading water.

  “Well, that was fun.”

  “Wonder when they’re going to get the memo that mean girls went out of style ten years ago.”

  Briar—I think that’s her name—sits down across from me, and her dark-headed friend sits down next to her, both setting their food down in front of them as if they were invited.

  One looks like a female version of a lumberjack in her plaid button-up and gray beanie covering her dirty-blonde hair while the other is giving me serious Coraline vibes. I’m not sure when wearing rain boots and bucket hats was a thing, but she’s killing it.